lavenderblossom74 - Tumblr blog

[lavenderblossom74]

Hi yes, Tumblr, I would like to know how I was like MIA on my account for a couple of months and the followers suddenly like triples? Like ???

[lavenderblossom74]

Totally plotless fluff, because I deserve it.

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Superman/Batman #2

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i made a meme to express how i feel right now

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Action Comics (2016) #1003

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Concept : Malcolm in the middle, but with Bruce and the bat kids.

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Not to make things weird, but if you’re going to be stuck at home anyways, you might as well have access to a 110k BatFam fic, right? Did I mention that it’s nearly one hundred and ten thousand words long?

[lavenderblossom74]

escape route

Day #8

It was one of those horrid, much dreaded nights. The type that comes only once a month and somehow that still seems to be way too often. None of the family took too well to attending Fathers galas, all doing their best to produce excuses and reasons to warrant their absence. Most get away with it, especially Dick and Jason since the public are aware that the oldest Wayne has his own, separate life in Bludhaven and the second eldest is hardly ever in the public eye. He wished that Richard were there, he at least would wave off some of the offending hands and, unlike the unfortunate Cass, the irritating miscreants surrounding him would listen to the five foot eleven man. For now however he was there to suffer, with some of the other members of his family who seemed to have more of a difficulty cultivating excuses to escape these horrid gatherings.

Cassandra, the only official female member of the Wayne family, was absolutely adored by the press. There were more gossip magazines and new articles about his sister than Damian was able to make himself aware of (no matter how hard he tried to keep up on all the tabloids about his siblings). The public was always going on about how what a beautiful young lady she is (something Cass doesn’t particularly appreciate) and how everyone knows she will grow up to do great things for the world and about how great she is for the family.

Tim, being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises is therefore obligated to attend nearly every company event (except for the many he doesn’t) and always does his ‘best’ to show.

Such a surprise he was not there tonight.

He was, Damian does have to credit him, at the gala for a brief time earlier in the evening. But, the city calls and with the Bats already short staffed and Tim neck deep in a nearly solved case, he had checked out early to go on patrol.

Oh, how envious Damian was of him. He was getting antsy, crowded into this (really not so) small room with so many intolerable people.

Damian was similar to Cass. Through the oh so innocent eyes of the public, ten year old Damian Wayne was nothing more than a poor abused child who was always clinging to his family members like shadows. Just a little kid who had been beaten and abandoned by his mother for the first decade of his life before being left to the father who wasn’t even aware of his existence.

And, well, Damian did have to give them a few points for accuracy.

The thing they didn’t have the right, however, the fact they had absolutely incredibly wrong was the assumption that Damian Wayne was cute. Which, to anyone idiotic enough to have to question that fact, was not.

Still, the rich snobs who occupied the event hall seemed to believe otherwise with how often they approached simply to coo and attempt to ruffle his still baby soft raven hair or pinch his, only slightly, chubby cheeks. Damian, who was not the biggest fan of physical contact already, disliked the constant attention from the ogling strangers and thus was his reason for tagging so close to Cassandra that night.

The two stood as they were, would probably make the front page, or at least popular photo the following day. Cassandra, who, even at her short stature stood nearly a foot above Damian, had each of her hands placed on either of shoulders. The boy was nearly rigid beneath her slender fingers, anxious from the crowd around him and the constant touching and pestering. She herself wasn’t much better but still, be older and the current big sister kept her discomfort to herself and helped to ground her brother.

They made their way off to the side, standing a ways away from the denser areas of the crowd in order to breath again. Pulling cover a chair, Cass motioned for her little brother to take a seat.

“Going to help Bruce.” She said, gesturing to where he was being bombarded with Vicky Bales never ending questions. She then turned back to Damian before pointing to the food tables not far to his right. “Eat.” She said, before sauntering off, her black dress flowing behind her.

Damian watched, more than a little jealous that at least she had something to go and do before he sighed and headed over to the food tables. He want necessarily hungry, he was trained to run in very little nutrients (much to Pennyworth disliking) but decided to at least see what was available.

Most of the items in the spread were finger foods, small sized appetizers and tapas that were meant to be grabbed and easily snacked on, not like the three course meal that was planned to come later in the night. There were a few different things though, a chocolate fountain that dripped lazily and cheese fondue. Damian sighed at both of the rather fattening choices, opting instead for one of the oranges resting in the fruit bowl.

He grabbed a dull steak knife then, the only blade near him that was not secured to his hip by a holster or tucked into his sock, resting the fruit on a plate set on the table before going about cutting it. He realized how hungry he actually was then, his stomach growling in response to the fresh smell of the fruit.

He had only altered his focused to his plate momentarily but, as it seemed, a second was all it had taken. Suddenly, all too quickly, there was a breath on his neck and a voice in his ear. It was sweet, sickly and male. The exact kind of things his father and siblings had always warned to watch for at events like these.

Bold of them to assume that Damian wasn’t always watching.

“Hungry?” Was all the voice asked. Yet the simple question carried so much weight and implied all the wrong intentions. Damian jumped, shocked by the voice and even more so by what was said. As he startled, the knife slipped, fingers moistened by the fruit juice, the handle slipping easily through them.

The blade, no longer in his control, cut down into the orange once again. But this time it was too far forward, too near his other hand and cut through the skin between his thumb and forefinger.

The cut was jagged, the blade too dull to slice evenly and blood began to seep from the wound almost immediately. Acidic oils from the citrus began to sting at the cut, causing a burning sensation to add to the pain.

Damian saw his opening.

After staring at this hands in offense, easily mistaken for shock by a bystander, he promptly burst into tears. It was humiliating, most definitely and he could nearly feel his pride dwindling on the spot, but Damian thought that was an okay payment if it meant he able to leave this wretched event even a little bit early.

Turning around and sliding past the creep, only after wiping just enough blood on the man’s coat to mark the offender, Damian made a beeline towards his father and Cassandra. The buffet table, though out of the way, was still close enough to where the crowd was more congested, that numerous heads had already turned to see the source of the sound. Father was included, the man tall amongst the other elites, was brushing by them as he hurried past.

Damian met Father in the middle. By this time, the crowd had begun to form around them, interested in the cause of the scene. Damian had salty tears running down his soft cheeks and snot collecting in his upper lip. The perfect picture of a distraught child, he nearly smiled at his own perfected acting skills.

“What’s the matter, son? What happened?” Father asked as he kneeled down. Even then, he was slightly taller than Damian. Father was a large man.

Damian sniveled, offering his bloodied hand for observation. Father took it gingerly and began to gently prod at Damian’s minuscule fingers.

Damian had suffered much worse during his training and on patrol and was well aware that Father knew he was playing this up. Like, a lot. Presumably, the ‘world’s greatest detective’ also knew his sons motives.

“I-I was c-cutting an orange a-and someone snuck up b-behind m-me!” He gasped, sucking in large gulps of air between his sobs, just as he had seen the misbehaved children and the park do.

Perfect.

“What man?” Father inquiered, looking around at the crowd. Damian reeled, pointing a shaking finger at the man accusingly. He still wore his suit jacket, a red swipe of Damian’s blood across the pocket, he was also turning to walk away. Only guilty men attempted to escape. Father nodded to Jim Gordon, who had been running security at that nights event, before turning back to Damian.

“I think this needs stitches.” He said, grabbing a cloth napkin to press against Damian’s hand. “Come on, we’ll go to Leslie’s.” And then, much to Damian’s surprise, Father lifted Damian by his underarms and rested the ten year old on his hip, motioning to Cassandra to follow. Damian stiffened, unused to the feeling of being held like this, of his feet dangling above the ground even though he was not in shackles. Father didn’t seem to mind though, and was able to easily support Damian’s small weight on only a single arm.

From over Father’s shoulder, Damian could see the other guests of the gala stare at the trio as they left the hall. Most of their faces held concern, some confusion at Bruce’s relatively calm hold on the rather bloody situation. Damian ceased his tears as the crowd became smaller, but hid his face in the collar of Bruce’s coat nonetheless. He never liked the feeling of eyes boring into him, of having all the attention on him when he was out as a civilian. It was unnerving, even if he would never admit it.

Bruce hadn’t said anything about the incident as they left, but Cassandra sent her brother a knowing look. Damian knew he would not be getting out of giving his sister the full run through of tonight’s events later in the evening. He had a feeling he would not be in trouble though. After all, as a civilian child, a cut such as so would have them heading for the hospital whether he played it up or not. He was only staying in character acting as he was.

Father had acted well too, playing the part of the concerned parent and comforting Damian. No doubt it would be the top headline by the following morning, pictures everywhere.

Pennyworth was waiting by the main entrance for them, a gauze wrap in his hands for a temporary bandage.

Cass was looking at Damian again, a soft smile on her lips as Pennyworth began to wrap the tender cut. Father had yet to put him down and Damian was beginning to wonder why. After all, he hadn’t really been in danger and, even if he had been, Damian was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, thank you.  

But, even as Pennyworth secured the wrap and the buildings staff opened the door for them Father did not loosen his hold. And still, when they stepped into the cool autumn air, Father went further as to place a hand on Damian’s back and honestly, the boy couldn’t tell whether the act had been continued for the sake of the few valets tending the entrance or, if it was simply just a dad, looking for an excuse to hold his son.

read on Ao3 instead

[lavenderblossom74]

“Bang” was deliberately written to be open-ended and ambiguous. It is Schroedinger’s fic.

This fic can be read without reading that one (but why would you want to?) Chapter One is “Bang” from Damian’s POV. You can read it without changing a line of “Bang.” Chapter Two is a resolution to both. They are deliberately split into these two chapters so that you can enjoy “Bang” and/or Chapter One with their original ambiguity.

Chapter One will be pasted below. Chapter Two will only be available on AO3 at the link above, but I will reblog this post with a notification once it is up on the website. (I still need to give it one final pass.)

———–

CHAPTER ONE

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Whumptober prompt: Explosion, Broken Voice

There was a bomb in the school. And the rec center. The Grove Street bank. The post office on Utica. The Nockaphee Building. The newly opened inner city hospital.

Bombs all over Gotham, embedded in the spines of community spaces and corporate structures like ticking tumors.

It was all hands on deck. Gotham PD had emptied out, as had the fire department, emergency services, and every mask within state limits. Batman and Black Bat had bypassed evacuation to head straight to the source. Stop the bomber, stop the bomb. The rest of them were merely backup, protection in case the caped pair failed. Their job was evacuation. Get everyone out and keep them away. Every time they were given a new location, a segment of the core broke off until their forces were scattered wide across the city.

Jason crouched on the roof of an emptied office building and watched the bank across the street. It was as abandoned now as the building beneath him, the entire block swept up and deposited well out of the potential blast zone. He kept his attention on the bank and its hidden but deadly payload and listened in on the crosstalk in his earpiece.

Familiar voices interspersed official chatter. He could hear dispatchers for the different departments, Red Robin calling out orders to the civilians in his care, Oracle’s terse, effective updates, and Spoiler cracking a joke to the kid she had just handed back to his mother. His earpiece cycled between the channels on loop, just enough to keep tabs.

Jason wasn’t normally a keep-tabs person, but explosions made him nervous.

He didn’t add his own voice to the channel. After confirming that civilians were clear of the area, his part in the evening was mostly done. The night, for him, was about monitoring and vigilance and fantasizing about bashing the bomb maker’s face in.

As far as city-wide disasters went, this one wasn’t so bad. Batman had caught wind of the plot early and whipped the city into action well before the bomb maker was prepared to go live, which meant there was no cliched ticking countdown. There were still people in danger—too many people—but that number was decreasing by the minute as the teams swept the city. The one moment of potential disaster—the bomb tucked into the belly of the rec center had malfunctioned and gone off on its own—had resulted only in property damage and no loss of life. The bomb maker hadn’t even set them all to run independently but instead had retained control via a mechanism that turned deliberate detonation into an all-or-nothing deal. All Batman had to do was incapacitate the bomb maker and turn off the controls. Night over, everyone pack it up and go home.

The first sign of trouble was the low “hrnn” over Jason’s earpiece. Batman had many different kinds of grunts, ranging from acknowledgement to dismissal to something almost close to happy. Jason wasn’t fluent in all of them—and had done his best to forget most of them—but he knew that a “hrnn,” unlike a “hnn” or a “mm,” was not a good sign.

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[lavenderblossom74]

I’m just thinking about how hilarious Bruce and Tim’s relationship is throughout the years (no one talk to me about canon) because Bruce gets like zero say as to Tim’s personal choices, because he really only gets to be a mentor as a vigilante. Of course Bruce is too dad to deal with that but he has to (sidenote: Tim is absolutely sneaky and does bad shit all the time, he just doesn’t get caught, that’s what “goody-two-shoes” means). anyways im just amusing myself thinking about all the ways that would have changed when Bruce adopted Tim

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Inktober Day 8

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“…Kids are weird”

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Gunpoint

I am officially a day late for this, but it’s fine. You guys will see my Dragged Away prompt paired with Shackled on day 9 because sometimes prompts work out like that. 

This one is a direct sequel to Human Shield, so if you haven’t read it please give it a read if you want all the context. 

Human Shield Fic | AO3 Link

~

The sound of the door opening was distant, even though Damian knew it wasn’t that far away. His hearing wasn’t right, everything was muffled, even Richard’s voice as close to him as it was. He felt his brother tug him closer in his lap, but kept his eyes squeezed closed as his world felt like it was rocking. His head hurt so bad, everything else as well, it was simply that his head was the most demanding right now.  

All Damian cared about was the fact that Richard was well enough to talk, worry over him, and pull him close. His brother was alive. He wasn’t so hurt he couldn’t move, and for that Damian was thankful. His decision to protect his brother had been right. No matter how angry Richard was with him over it, he’d been right.  

“Told ya at least one of them would survive.” The voice was gruff, and a little victorious.

Damian felt sick, and squeezed his eyes a bit tighter, sparking a sharp pain in his forehead. He’d hoped Father would be here already, and not more trouble. Where was he?

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-Oracle, you read me? -Like a book.

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Local 9-year-old doesn’t want to socialize with rich people who are going to ask him 838238 questions and pinch his cheeks more at 11.

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